


old black train

by bobbydrake



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Saving the Day, Wirt has some serious PTSD and he doesn’t know how to deal, jason funderberker - Freeform, sequel time boys, wirt saves the day?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-10-29 20:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20802809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobbydrake/pseuds/bobbydrake
Summary: “The unwarranted silence is either indicative of your inability to reach me or the fact that the divide between our two worlds is greater than it seems. Whatever it may be, I won’t stop writing these letters. Not until I know you’re still out there.Until we meet again,-Wirt.”When Wirt starts having ominous nightmares and visions, he thinks nothing of it. This is just what happens after an ordeal, right? At least, that’s what his therapist and parents seem to believe. But, when he receives a message in his locker at school, he knows that this is his call to action. He has to return and venture once more into the unknown to save both himself and humanity as he knows it. Luckily, he has a few companions to help him along the way.





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ahahaha no wirt don’t kill yourself, you’re so sexy ahahaha

”Beatrice,

I saw it again today. The vision of the beast. I was at a pep assembly and-“

He crosses that part out. She doesn’t know what a pep assembly is.

”I was at school and suddenly all the noise around me stopped and I heard this ringing. When I shut my eyes, I could see him. In his actual form. I nearly fainted and Sara had to keep yelling my name to get me to open my eyes. Then, the noise around me went back to normal and he wasn’t there when I blinked.

This is the third time this week. I’m beginning to think something’s wrong there.

As another twilight passes without contact from you, I begin to lose hope. The unwarranted silence is either indicative of your inability to reach me or the fact that the divide between our two worlds is greater than it seems. Whatever it may be, I won’t stop writing these letters. Not until I know you’re still out there.

Until we meet again,  
-Wirt.”

He stared at the twists and curves of his cursive against the stark white paper before unwillingly folding it into three sections and slipping it into an unmarked envelope. He contemplated his actions for a moment before hesitantly licking a stamp and placing it neatly in the upper right hand corner. He didn’t know if you really needed a stamp when sending possibly inter-dimensional mail, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt his chances.

Four months. Four long months without contact from her. Four months of idle waiting, wondering if she would ever read his words. Wondering if she was okay, if her family was okay. 

He started writing the letters in order to sort of cope with what had happened out there. It was something his therapist had suggested when he met with her. Well, she more accurately told him to write what he experienced during the day in a journal, but he liked his version better. Talking to Beatrice, even if she couldn’t answer, helped him come to terms with some of the craziness that he had experienced during that time. 

Greg wasn’t as affected as he was. At only six years old, the boy didn’t really have a lot of feelings about the whole ordeal. He did admit to Wirt once or twice that he missed Beatrice and that he wanted to go back and see Jason Funderberker (the frog version) sing again, but other than that he played and went to school and annoyed Wirt the same amount as always. Greg didn’t have to see a therapist about what had happened, because he still really couldn’t comprehend what had happened. 

He was lucky that way.

As Wirt made his familiar weekly descent to the old graveyard to send his letter over the wall, he wondered mostly if Beatrice was feeling the same sort of emptiness as well. It was the loneliness that sat in the pit of his stomach day in and day out and reminded him that he really didn’t have anyone out there that could understand what he had experienced the same way he did. Well, of course there was Greg, but the boy was usually more concerned in teaching his frog how to tap dance than have a deep, philosophical discussion about their travels that Halloween.

He stopped suddenly, his eyes fixated on the massive wall before him. He took a deep breath as he began to scale the tree that stood next to the stone wall, the letter tucked safely away in his pocket. As he reached the point where he was able to perch on the edge of the wall, he pulled out the crisp envelope and turned it over in his hands a few times. 

“Please, just let me know you’re out there.” He whispered, more to himself than anyone else. Hastily, he tossed the letter into the wind and let it fall and twist in the late February air until it disappeared from his view. He didn’t linger afterwards. If he stayed too long he began to feel sick to his stomach. So, he slid back down the familiar trunk of the tree and shoved his hands in his jean jacket pockets, ignoring the biting winter air as he trudged home.

Home. Back to his step-father and mother and Greg and Jason Funderberker (the frog, not the douchebag kid). That was his home, his family.

So why did he feel like his soul was somewhere else?

xxx

He was back. In the woods, that is.

Or, at least he thought he was.

He couldn’t be too sure. There was darkness all around and the cold, stale air that whipped around him bowled so fiercely that he couldn’t quite make out his surroundings.

“Hello?” He called tentatively, unable to even hear himself. “Greg? Beatrice?” He cried, his breathing picking up as he began to panic. Where the hell was he? 

“Hello child,” a menacing and familiar voice whispered, sending a chill down his spine. He knew that voice anywhere. “I see you’ve returned to me.” The Beast continued, chuckling slightly. Wirt tried to squint in order to make out the familiar glow of The Beast’s stare, but he could see nothing in the inky obsidian that encompasses him. 

“Show yourself, Beast!” He shouted, choosing to ignore the way his voice wavered with fear. “Wait! How are you even still alive? The Woodsman blew out your lantern-soul-thingy. That killed you, right?” He questioned, furrowing his brow in confusion. “Are you even technically alive?” He mumbled.

“Silence!” The Beast roared, shaking the trees around him. The wind blew him back a bit and Wirt stumbled as he fell to the forest floor amidst the leaves and dirt. “You take me for a fool, believing that I had only kept my soul in one place all these years,” he murmured, his deep baritone somehow invading all of Wirt’s senses even though he couldn’t see the figure. “You think you’ve defeated me, but you’re more in danger than ever, child.” He laughed quietly, almost mocking. Wirt frowned at that.

“You’re just a vision, a nightmare!” He shot back, pulling himself up from the forest bed and shaking the dirt off of his palms. He ignored the blood from where his hand had scratched a rock during his fall. “Besides, I’m not a child. I’m like, a sophomore in high school.” He retorted, feeling the inexplicable need to clarify this to the invisible being. 

“If I’m just a nightmare, then wake up.” The Beast ordered with a growl. 

Suddenly, the wind stopped blowing and Wirt stood still for a moment, wondering what had just happened. He felt a familiar unease in his stomach and wanted more than anything to break the threatening silence that followed as the howling wind ceased. 

Before he could say anything, however, before he could even breathe, he saw it.

The Beast.

A flash of blinding white and a millisecond later it was over, but he knew what he had seen.

And as he shot upright in his bed shouting from the fear, he didn’t dare open his eyes for fear that if he looked around his messy bedroom, he would see the ominous figure with his gaping, soulless eyes standing there before him. Instead, he screwed his eyes shut tight and gasped for air as he realized that he was home, he was safe, and that there was no Beast. This was just another nightmare that his therapist had explained was a consequence of his “near-death experience” and would fade in time. 

Why did this one feel so real, though? why did he believe he was actually there?

“Wirt?” 

The small voice pulled him from his panicked reverie and he forced his eyes open, blinking away the tears that he hadn’t even noticed had formed.

Greg stood at the foot of his bed, Jason Funderberker clutched tightly in his arms. The frog’s sock-clad feet dangled limply in the air as Greg pulled him and his pet on top of Wirt’s bed to sit by the teenager.

“Are you okay?” Greg asked, barely above a whisper. His hair was tousled from sleep but his eyes were wide awake and his voice held that same innocent tone as always. He didn’t know any better, perhaps he never would. 

“I-I’m okay,” Wirt lied, sounding unconvincing even to himself. “What are you doing up out of bed?” He questioned, shifting the focus off of himself.

“I heard you shouting again and I came here with Jason to check on you!” Greg exclaimed happily, his grin beaming brightly against the darkness of his bedroom and Wirt found it in himself to even crack a weak smile at that. “Were you dreaming about being chased down the street by a giant lizard in a tie?” He asked, his eyebrows perking up so high they nearly disappeared in his hairline.

“Uh, sure, yeah Greg. I was dreaming about that.” He admitted shakily, not wanting to scare his little brother with the truth. He knew it was foolish not to confide in maybe the only other person on earth who could understand what he was going through, but Greg was also six and still held onto his childlike innocence despite everything. He didn’t need Wirt ruining that with pointless fears.

It was just a dream. Just a stupid dream.

As he walked Greg back to his own bedroom after stopping to fill up a glass of water for Jason, he noticed a small cut on the palm of his hand. He squeezed it, watching the small beads of red surface as he put pressure on the wound. He blinked, feeling the scrape from the rock as he fell on the forest floor again. His stomach turned as he re-tucked his brother into bed and exited the small room. 

It was just a dream, he repeated to himself. He wiped the traces of blood against the fabric of his pajama pants. He must have scratched himself in his sleep and that was what manifested as the rock in his subconscious. That was the only explanation, it had to be.

He shivered as he crawled back into bed, the breeze flowing in from his open window almost taunting him. His alarm clock read 3:47 am. Three hours before he had to be up for school. He wasn’t sure if he could get back to sleep. 

Just a dream. Just a stupid, meaningless, nothing dream. 

He shut his eyes and told himself this same mantra over and over again until he drifted off again. 

Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream.


	2. chapter 2

“You okay?” 

He was sitting in third period band class when the small folded square of paper dropped onto his lap. He glanced up from his music stand and gently pulled open the piece of lined paper to read the two, seemingly innocent words written in the dark green gel pen he recognized to be Sara’s. He shot a look over towards the brass section where their band teacher was helping a trumpeter empty his spit valve before scribbling back a response and tossing the note back to the girl.

He didn’t check again when the note was pushed back to him a moment later. He merely picked up his clarinet and tried to focus on the sheet music in front of him. He needed the distraction.

“No you’re not.” Sara accused an hour later as they walked down the hallway to their lunch hour. “You wanna know how I know you’re not?” She questioned and Wirt refrained from rolling his eyes. “Because all morning in chemistry and band you had that glazed over look in your eyes and you were biting your pencil. You were obviously freaked out about something so just tell me.” She pleaded as they took their usual seats as their lunch table amidst the rest of her friend group.

Wirt concealed his agitation as he pulled his regular peanut butter and jelly sandwich from his backpack.

“I was...nervous about the quiz.” He lied rather lamely, avoiding Sara’s doubtful expression.

“You? Nervous about stoichiometry? You can do those problems in your sleep, Wirt!” She pointed out, causing a deep blush to darken his face as she inadvertently complimented him. He liked it when she did that. 

“I don’t know, I just haven’t been sleeping much lately, I guess.” He added, hoping that would appease his prying friend. He took a bite from his sandwich, trying to look anywhere but in Sara’s knowing eyes. She could always tell his mood and what he was thinking better than anyone else, even himself. They had grown closer since that fateful Halloween night a few months prior and he found that he enjoyed spending time with her more than anyone. Yet, he still hadn’t made a definitive move and he could tell that his opening would be gone soon. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to, it was just that he wasn’t sure that Sara was the kind of girl who could see herself with a loser like Wirt. He hadn’t even worked up the nerve to let her listen to the tape he made her yet. Sara was kind but she wouldn’t wait around for him forever. Not to mention the fact that douchey Jason Funderberker (not the frog) still hung off of her like a lovesick puppy. The thought of Jason Funderberker kissing Sara or holding her hand in the movie theater made him want to throw up what little he had eaten of his sandwich. 

He distracted himself the rest of lunch by engaging in pithy conversation with the rest of group, rambling on about who said what or where they saw this thing or what they were doing that weekend. It was comforting in a way to be able to think about things that weren’t related to his growing emotional distress or the fact that he couldn’t sleep at night without fear of not waking up again. 

But he couldn’t avoid it forever.

“So that’s why you almost fainted yesterday at the pep rally? Because you haven’t been sleeping?” Sara persisted as she followed him to his locker right after lunch. He pulled a frown at that.

“I didn’t faint or almost faint!” He insisted, opening his locker and wincing at how it grazed the cut on his palm that he had been ignoring. “I almost passed out, fainting is different.” He explained when Sara shot him a confused glance. 

“Why? Fainting is too girly for you?” She teased and Wirt blanched at the accusation.

“What? No! I didn’t say that! I think fainting is fine, it’s not inherently feminine or anything I was just saying that I-“ he began to ramble an apology before she cut him off with her laughing.

“Wirt, I was kidding!” She explained and the teenager felt his cheeks and ears go red again. 

“Oh.” He responded, putting in his locker combination quickly as Sara leaned up against the row of lockers next to him. Her dark hair fell into her eyes as she gazed up at him and as soon as they noticed they were staring at each other again, they quickly glanced away. It was this flirtatious move they had been doing for a while now, but Wirt was too nervous to actually advance anything past that most days.

“Hey, what are you doing after the game on Friday?” Sara questioned innocently as Wirt reached into his locker. As he began to pull his French textbook from his locker, he noticed that the cover was dotted with what look like black ink blots.

Key word: looked.

He knew immediately what they were without even having to touch the stains.

“Whoa, did your pen explode or something?” Sara questioned and suddenly, Wirt felt his knees began to buckle beneath him. He couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t he breathe? Were the walls of the school hallway suddenly closing in on him and since when did the halls in passing period get so quiet? Why couldn’t he hear the familiar chatter and chaos of his high school’s corridor over the blood rushing in his ears? 

The black substance coated his hands, covering up the scratch on his palm from the night before. There was so much of it and he suddenly felt like he might lose his lunch right then and there.

‘Please be dreaming, please be dreaming, please be dreaming.’ He pleaded to himself. This couldn’t be real. It was just one of his nightmares. He was in his bed at home and in a few hours he would wake up and go to school and open his locker for his textbooks and everything would be fine and clean. 

The oil on the cover of his books smeared against his hands and the front of his shirt as he pulled them all out from the inside of his locker, throwing them hastily to the linoleum floor of the crowded hallway. He received a few disgruntled glares from passing students but paid them no mind. 

“Wirt what are you doing?” Sara cried, trying to grab his shoulder to stop him from his obvious descent into madness. As he reached the end of his locker, he noticed that the Edelwood oil seeped in from the cracks of the locker’s ceiling, but he highly doubted that the locker above his had any traces of the black substance coating their books. No, it was just him. 

And then he saw it. At he very back of his locker he peered at the message written with the same thick oil. 

A singular black X.

“Wirt!”

That was the last thing he heard before all the blood drained from his face, his knees finally gave way, and he fainted.

xxx

“Wirt? Wirt, wake up!”

His head pounded and made it more than difficult to make out the muddled voices above him. He tried his best to peel back his eyelids so he could see his surroundings, but he just couldn’t with what little energy he possessed. Everything felt like it had been submerged in a hazy fog and there’s no point to anything.

“Wirt, come on. Just wake up,” the voice was a girl’s, desperate and pleading in his ear. At first he thought it may be Sara, but the pitch was too high. It must be the school nurse, he figured. “It’s not safe here, you have to come with me.” She begged and he felt his face contort in confusion.

Okay, so that wasn’t something a school nurse would say. 

He inhaled deeply, trying to ascertain where he was based solely off of scent. The air around him carried a familiar woodsy musk and he felt his heart drop to his stomach. His fingers clenched by his sides and he felt the soft soil beneath him instead of what should be a rollaway cot in the nurse’s office. That was the last thing that happened, right? He passed out- not fainted- in the hallway after he found the oil in his locker and-

Oh. The oil.

“Wirt what are you talking about?” The voice hissed in exasperation and he felt confused. 

“D-did I say that out loud?” He mumbled, barely conscious enough to understand what he was or was not saying to this voice. 

“Look at me, dummy. Open your eyes.” She ordered and he reached up a clumsy hand to rub at his eyelids. He blinked wearily a few times, before the wavy shape in front of him began to look more like a person. Fiery red hair, freckles, dark eyes riddled with worry and anger at the same time.

“Beatrice?” He coughed out weakly. A harsh gust of wind blew at them and he wrapped his arms around himself. He was so cold for some reason despite the fact he still had his sweater on. Why was he so cold? 

“What are you doing here?” She whispered and he almost chuckled. It sounded like she couldn’t choose between reprimanding him or hugging him and calling him a pea-brain. He had missed her more than he even knew. 

Did she know? The letters had been pretty self-explanatory.

“Uh, did you, um, did you happen to-“ he tripped over his own words, sounding less coherent than a drunk. Beatrice furrowed her brow.

“Spit it out genius.” She prompted and Wirt bit back a smile. His heart felt a lot warmer than it had at all in the last four months. They stayed like that for a moment, just taking in the sight of each other’s faces. He had never seen her in her human form for longer than the few seconds when he had helped her cut her wings before he had left with Greg on Halloween. Her ginger locks fell in perfect ringlets around her pale face and she smirked at him as he stared. “What are you looking at?” She teased and a deep blush spread across his face. 

Their reminiscing and friendly joking couldn’t last for long, however, and he felt the wind begin to pick up and howl in his ears once more. It sounded exactly like his dream the night prior where he heard that voice and saw, just for a second, blindingly white orbs before him. 

“We need to get out of here, it’s not safe.” Beatrice coaxed, taking one of Wirt’s hands in hers. She managed to pull him to his feet and he swayed a bit as he stood upright, leaning most of his weight on her.

“W-why isn’t it safe?” Wirt stammered out, fearing the answer he didn’t want to hear. The wind swirled around them, blowing the pair backwards a bit and Beatrice swore under her breath.

“No, no, no, no, no,” her voice broke as she spoke to herself and Wirt felt his heart twist in his chest. Her face held true fear, something that he had really only seen when they had confronted her at Adelaide’s. She wasn’t prone to be afraid and Wirt felt her panic. “You don’t understand.” She insisted and Wirt felt his throat go dry.

“Beatrice- you’re scaring me. Are you okay?” He questioned, but was drowned out as the wind tore through them and blew Wirt backwards, ripping his hand away from Beatrice. He tripped over his untied shoelace and felt himself crashing down to the forest floor. As his head hit the rough surface, the last thing he saw before blacking out was a dark figure careening towards Beatrice. 

He weakly called out her name before fading into nothingness.

xxx


	3. chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wirt is dumb and can’t deal with his emotions and it really do be like that

“Nurse Robbins, he’s waking up!” 

As Wirt sifted through the foggy haze that invaded his mind, he came to a few realizations.

The first being that he was definitely back in his reality and not lost somewhere in the woods again. The uncomfortable cot in the nurse’s office lay beneath him and he exhaled deeply with relief. This wasn’t another whacked out dream about the terrifying things that took place in the forest.

The second realization was that the visions he had begun to have in his sleep probably weren’t actual dreams.

This theory was obviously untested, but after his encounter with Beatrice, he wasn’t entirely convinced that the ominous nightmares that had been plaguing his subconscious for weeks now were just nightmares. Everything had felt and seemed so real, unlike any dream he had ever been in before. Not to mention the obvious signs that had no real explanation- such as the scratch on his hand and the oil in his locker. He would need to seek out some advice, preferably from someone who wasn’t his therapist or his parents and wouldn’t take him for a seriously disturbed crazy person.

However, that would have to wait.

“How are you feeling?” The familiar voice of Nurse Robbins asked as she shined a bright light in both of his eyes. He blinked a few times, trying to fight back the weariness that pervaded his body.

“Fine, I guess.” Wirt admitted, not really seeing a reason to lie. In fact, he’d rather wait out the rest of his day at school and walk home like he usually did each afternoon rather than bother his mother or step-father with having to come pick him up. Besides, the unwarranted attention would surely put a halt to any plans he had to figuring out his predicament.

“You can wait out here for a little while until you feel well enough to go back to class.” The kindly nurse suggested and Wirt smiled meekly. Sara still lingered in the doorway of the small room and as soon as Nurse Robbins turned away, she entered.

They sat in a tension-filled silence for a moment before either of them spoke.

“So was that fainting or passing out?” Sara finally asked and Wirt allowed himself to chuckle at that. He felt grateful for the girl staying with him, but couldn’t voice it aloud without stammering like an idiot, so he chose not to. The silence persisted with nothing but the quiet hum of the nurse’s office mid-afternoon to drown out their thoughts. 

“Wirt, I’m really starting to worry about you.” Sara admitted and Wirt blushed again. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but she continued. “You keep passing out everywhere and saying and doing weird things. And then when you were laying here you kept calling out this girl’s name in your sleep...Beatrice. Who is she? Does she go to a different school?” Sara interrogated and Wirt blanched, embarrassed at the thought of his sleep-talking. What else had he revealed?

“You don’t have to worry.” Wirt insisted quickly, trying to laugh off the whole situation. If he put up the pretend that he was okay, maybe Sara would buy it. “And uh, yes! Beatrice is a girl from a different school who uh, well you- you wouldn’t know her. So, no need to worry about anything out of the ordinary here, right?” He offered, laughing nervously in order to clear her suspicions. Her face only seemed to fall more.

“Well, who is she?” Sara pried, her dark hair framing her face like a portrait. Wirt swallowed, but his throat feel felt dry.

“She’s nobody. Well, I mean not nobody. She’s somebody but you just- you wouldn’t understand.” He sighed, a little tired of this charade. 

“But, you can talk to me. We’re friends, right? I can try to understand?” She suggested, mustering a weak smile. Wirt suppressed a groan. He really didn’t have time for this today. “I like you Wirt,” she almost whispered. “I like hanging out with you and talking to you.” She admitted and he twisted his mouth into a frown. What was she even saying? Part of him wanted to believe her, but another part of him just figured she wanted to hear about Beatrice. She probably didn’t even care enough to stick around once she found out he was most likely going insane with thoughts about mysterious forests and beasts. He couldn’t handle that ridicule. 

“Seems like you’d rather be hanging out with Jason Funderberker than me.” He spat, not trying to keep the venom from his tone. At first, he even surprised himself with this. It was like the words just fell directly from his brain with no filter or thought behind it. He usually didn’t operate that way. 

“What does that even mean?” Sara countered, her brow furrowing with confusion.

“You know, the way you always look at him and laugh with him. You’re clearly into him and why wouldn’t you be? Just- just go be with Jason Funderberker and you can talk all about whatever you want with him.” He shot back, the hateful words lingering like poison on his lips. He had never spoken this way to her or to anyone for that matter. 

“Oh.” She replied succinctly and Wirt felt a stab of guilt twist in his stomach. She toyed absentmindedly with a loose thread that hung off of her jacket sleeve. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay and all.” She admitted, her voice breaking as she tried to hold back her tears. He watched a few drop from the peak of her nose onto her fidgeting hands and suddenly the stab of guilt transformed into 700 knives of guilt. She rose from her seat and ran out, Wirt immediately getting up to follow her.

“Sara- wait!” He called out after her but she was already rounding the corner and leaving. He felt hopeless, just standing there like an idiot as he watched her leave. But, there wasn’t a whole lot he could do exactly. He sort of had bigger things on his plate to deal with than petty high school drama and even though he felt guilty about the whole ordeal, he needed to seek out answers. There were more pressing issues at hand and there didn’t seem to be a whole lot of time left. If he didn’t figure out what was going on soon, he knew the nightmares would only get worse and worse and add even more growing suspicion from his friends and family. 

No, he would just have to figure this one out on his own, it seemed. This was his burden to bear. 

xxx

“Closing time, young man. You don’t gotta stay here, but you can’t stay here.” 

The voice of the elderly librarian shook him from his thoughts and he glanced up from the passage he was engrossed in about near-death experiences. 

“That doesn’t even make sense...” Wirt mumbled to himself as he packed up the books he had piled up over the course of the last few hours. 

Immediately following his fight with Sara, he had retreated to the safe haven of the school’s library to do some much needed research. He had checked out book after book of what looked like could help him in his search for clues, but so far had only come up with a pitiful list of theories scrawled in messy handwriting on a lined piece of paper.

1\. I’m having lucid dreams about the Unknown because of PTSD.

That one, realistically, was the most plausible to him. However, he had instantly ruled it out after remembering the cut on his hand from the night prior and the Edelwood oil in his locker. There was too much physical and undeniable proof to suggest that this theory could be true.

2\. I’m still asleep and that’s why I have the scrape and saw the oil.

This one was the most comforting, but again, most likely not true. He knew that when lucid dreaming, most people found it impossible to read or write anything and after pinching himself quietly under the table for over an hour, he ruled this one out too.

3\. All of these are signs telling me to come back to the forest. Beatrice and everyone else is in trouble and I need to help her.

This one left an uneasy feeling in his stomach, simply because of the impossibility of it all. Hadn’t the entire journey in the forest with Greg and Beatrice just been a crazy dream brought on in unconsciousness? He knew, (as much as he would like to deny it for his own peace of mind), that this wasn’t true. If the forest had been a dream, then how could Greg have had the same one? Even if his experience had been brought on by a hallucination during a near-death experience, it still couldn’t explain Greg having the exact same hallucination. Unless there truly was an afterlife where two people could experience the exact same thing.

He didn’t know if he believed in such things. More importantly, he didn’t know if he wanted to.

As he hastily shoved the books and his lined paper into his bag and said goodbye to the weird librarian, he thought about the plausibility of an afterlife. It would explain why Greg and his frog had been there too and felt and saw the same things, but it still didn’t make much sense as to why these signs were appearing in his day to day life. And why now? What was the significance of these ominous messages and why did they have to come to him? Couldn’t he just be normal for a day?

He tried to put the philosophical theorizing about death to rest as he walked the familiar route to Mrs. Daniels’ house where Greg waited after school for Wirt to come walk him home each day. He felt a bit guilty for spending extra time at the library doing research that afternoon, but figured that Greg wouldn’t mind doing some extra manual labor in the garden for the woman. Besides, they seemed to have some weird friendship going on that Wirt didn’t bother questioning. If their travels in the woods had proven anything it was that Greg could make friends wherever he went and with anyone he met. 

As he approached the door of the old lady who lived across the street from his high school, he suddenly felt an eerie chill wash over his body and he shuddered. Something wasn’t right, but he tried his best to ignore his intuition and fight off the feelings of unease boiling deep in his gut. He gave three sharp knocks on Mrs. Daniels’ door, hoping that the pair were inside today and that he wouldn’t have to try tripping over all of her garden gnomes again to get into her backyard.

He waited for a moment, absentmindedly staring at the porch when he noticed a lump under her welcome mat that displayed a picture of a friendly looking dog on a porch swing. Curious, he kicked gently at the lump, frowning when it didn’t move.

‘Probably one her numerous rock fact rocks.’ He figured to himself. After he and Greg had returned, Greg had cried his apologizes to Mrs. Daniels’ about how he was sorry he had stolen her rock and begged her to forgive him. Of course, the old lady had, but not before reassuring Greg that it wasn’t a serious criminal offense and he had done no harm. Since then, the pair had collaborated on painting more rock fact rocks and Greg had even gotten to hold onto the one he had brought into the forest with them. 

Finally, curiosity and impatience overtook Wirt and he lifted the edge of the frayed welcome mat with his shoe, wanting to know what was hidden underneath. 

In the long run, he really wished he hadn’t done that. 

A gasp escaped his mouth when he saw the tiny black turtle lying dormant under the mat. Unsure if the small shell was reality or a vision of some sort, he reached down to feel the slimy head of the sleek black turtle that lay on her porch. He had never seen a turtle be that particular color except in one other place he knew.

“Hey there, Wirt!”

Suddenly, the front door swung open and Mrs. Daniels’ cheery voice interrupted his panic. He suddenly dropped the edge of the welcome mat and stumbled backwards after being caught off guard so easily.

“Ahh! Uh, nothing!” He provided, realizing that she hadn’t even asked him what he had been doing staring at her mat. He blushed deeply with embarrassment. “Uh, hi, Mrs. Daniels.” He greeted awkwardly, standing up and brushing the porch dust from his sweater and jeans.

“Admiring my welcome mat, huh?” The old lady questioned and Wirt nodded silently, trying to shake the image of the turtle from his mind. How did the animal even get here? Part of him wanted so desperately to believe that it was just a rare breed of turtle he had never seen except in the forest, but he knew what the answer was. He just really, really didn’t want to accept the truth.

“It’s uh- really nice.” He admitted. “Is Greg ready? We should get going.” He added, throwing in a nervous smile to appease the old lady. He knew that he looked a little worse for wear, especially after the day he had just endured. But, the sooner he got home the sooner he could do some more research and try to think of what to do.

“Wirt! Young man Daniels is teaching me how to make dirt pies!” He heard his little brother’s voice call from inside the house. Suddenly, Greg appeared from behind a corner absolutely caked with mud and dirt and holding Jason Funderberker who looked equally as dirty. “She said all I have to do is pull up the weeds and reset her vegetable garden and she’s gonna give us the recipe!” He explained and Wirt even found himself smiling at that. The old lady seemed to be great at extortion. “We’re gonna be so rich from our pies, we can finally buy Jason Funderberker that indoor pool he wanted!” Greg exclaimed, dancing around the front room with his frog clutched tightly in his arms. The two were really a sight to see, with Greg’s clothes probably forever stained from the mud and grass. 

“Why don’t you come inside and have something nice and warm to drink while I help Greg here wash up?” The old lady suggested and Wirt’s face faltered. That did sound nice, especially considering the ten minute walk they had home and the fact that the chilly night air was already settling in. He nodded wordlessly and followed Mrs. Daniels to her kitchen where she began preparing the boys a pot of tea. 

“So, anything on your mind lately?” She asked openly, almost to the point where he thought she was addressing his younger brother. When he realized that Greg was more interested in his frog than conversation, Wirt finally spoke up.

“Nothing, just school and...uh, clarinet I guess.” He answered lamely as the woman took a seat at the table across from him. She shot him a more than condescending look.

“Now I know that’s not true, more than you and I both know that nobody in this town would pay a cent for dirt pies.” She pointed out with a chuckle and Wirt laughed weakly. Of that, he wasn’t too sure. With Greg’s effortless charm and innocence, Wirt was pretty sure he could sell pennies to a millionaire. “What’s really bothering you?” She persisted and Wirt felt his heart skip a beat.

“Well I, I guess I have these nightmares sometimes.” He began, wondering if that was enough to keep her questioning at bay. “And by sometimes, I mean all the time. And I just- well I just see some stuff I don’t always want to see.” He explained, trying to keep things as vague as possible. He didn’t need the label of ‘crazy’ to add to his list of recent problems.

“That’s what I feel like when I see dead worms on the sidewalk that people step on.” Greg interjected from his seat on the floor. 

Mrs. Daniels merely lifted a brow as if to say: “And?”

“And I keep having visions and faintin- or passing out I mean. But, now-“ he sighed, debating on whether or not he should continue. “Now it seems like it’s all real. Like it’s not really a vision anymore. And I think it might be a threat, or- or something like that.” He tapered off, feeling the scratch on his palm underneath the kitchen table. 

“Like your fantasy is bleeding into reality?” She clarified and he nodded. Suddenly, the tea kettle began to whistle at a high pitch and he jumped, startled by the harsh noise. She got up to move the pot from the stovetop, but still talked to Wirt. “How long has this been happening?” She questioned and Wirt shrugged, even though he fully knew the answer to her question.

“Well, since Halloween I guess.” He sighed, trying to keep his voice pitched relatively low.

“You mean since we got lost in the woods? And we met Beatrice and Jason Funderberker sang a cool song and swallowed this bell?” Greg called out, not discreetly at all. Wirt chuckled nervously before turning to his younger brother and shushing him frantically. 

However, the story had clearly piqued old lady Daniels’ interest.

“He doesn’t know what he’s saying. Y’know, it’s all make-believe.” Wirt tried to explain away Greg’s stories of the woods.

“It’s not! We both know it’s true!” Greg insisted, dragging himself and his frog up to the table to sit by Wirt. “Truer than Mr. young man Daniels’ radish stew!” He added for good measure.

“What else happened in these woods?” The old woman prodded and Wirt sighed deeply. 

“We should really be getting ho-“ he tried to protest, but was cut off by the excited rambling of his younger brother.

“We traveled all over trying to get home and that’s how we met our friend Beatrice and we rode on a boat full of singing frogs, just like Jason Funderberker here!” Greg explained excitedly, his eyes lighting up with the chance to talk about his adventures. Wirt bit his lip, trying not to dissuade his younger brother from opening up, but he still worried about the concerned glance Mrs. Daniels wore. What thoughts were formulating in her mind? 

“And then we met the creepy old woodsman and Unckie Endicott and Fred the horse!” He tacked on and Wirt tried not to smile, despite himself. He had forgotten that although the journey had been perilous and terrifying towards the end, he still had some semblance of fun along the way. 

“And then Wirt made me captain so I had to make a plan. I went to cloud city and the lady told me I could go home but Wirt couldn’t cause the Beast wanted him. So I traded myself for Wirt so he could go home instead and then Wirt came and saved me from the leaves that I ate and took us home!” He finished spectacularly, almost buzzing with excitement. 

“Oh, and then I went home and gave you your rock back. And that’s a rock fact.” He conceded, pulling the rock out of his shirt pocket. He always seemed to have that thing on hand. Old lady Daniels looked absolutely enthused by the entire ordeal, probably believing that Greg’s story was just that- a story of childish whimsy. 

“You forgot that we killed the Beast there too.” Wirt mumbled, his face resting in his hand with his elbows propped up on the table. 

“No we didn’t.” Greg countered, placing his rock fact rock back in his shirt. Wirt shot him a confused glance.

“Oh. Well I guess technically the woodsman killed him.” Wirt explained, unsure of exactly why he was engaging in this. A second ago he didn’t even want to bring up any of their memories from the forest.

“No, he didn’t.” The younger boy stated and Wirt furrowed his brow. “He’s not dead. I heard him last night.” Greg added, sticking his tongue out in protest. Wirt’s face fell and he knew that if he was looking in a mirror, he would see himself go absolutely pale with fear.

“W-what do you mean?” He questioned, focusing all of his attention on his little brother. 

“Oh, last night after we got Jason Funderberker some water, I heard the Beast. But I just said ‘no’ and he went away.” He explained simply, as if the problems of the world could be solved that easily.

“Said no to what, Greg?” Mrs. Daniels ventured, a little more intrigued beyond entertainment now. Her face had grown cloudy with this news.

“When he asked me to come with him back to the woods.” He revealed, not really understanding the same implications that Wirt and Mrs. Daniels were hearing. 

Suddenly, Wirt felt worse than he had all week. It was the realization that he was not the only one being affected by these visions and nightmares, but also the fact that there was more concrete evidence to his theories. The fact that there were physical traces of the unknown slipping into their world and that this dark fantasy was becoming reality. But, that couldn’t be possible, could it? If all that time spent in the woods was just a hallucination, why was he experiencing it now and in reality? 

He felt extremely dizzy and nearly toppled out of his chair.

“Greg, you go wash your hands and that frog of yours. I’m gonna talk to your brother for a moment.” Mrs. Daniels instructed and Greg hopped off of his chair instantly.

“Yes sir, Captain Daniels.” He responded in a silly voice before running off to the nearest bathroom. Wirt laid his head down on the table in resign, but also to shield himself in a sense.

“I don’t understand.” He groaned, his words muffled. “None of that stuff was real. It was just- just a dream or something.” He insisted, looking up to meet Mrs. Daniels’ gaze. She held a look of sympathy and understanding that Wirt hadn’t really seen in anyone else since that fateful night. Not in the eyes of his therapist and certainly not in the eyes of his mom and step-father. 

“Maybe all of your memories are lies,” she offered and Wirt frowned even deeper. “Maybe everything we perceive is a lie, but we have to believe in something, right?” She continued and he lifted his head from her soft tablecloth. “There’s a lot of mystery out there and there’s a lot that humans don’t quite understand yet. I don’t know exactly what you and your brother have been through, but it sounds like there’s some unfinished business that you have to tend to.” She advised and Wirt let out a low keening sound of dread.

“It just doesn’t make scientific sense.” He sighed, pushing an shaking hand through his messy hair. “If where we went was real and not just some hallucination, why is it trying to get us to go back? What is it trying to say?” He questioned, speaking aloud to the universe more than to the woman sat across from him. She simply smiled cryptically. 

“Only you can answer that I think.” She informed him before pushing her seat back and standing to her feet. “Oh, we forgot all about the tea.” She chuckled, grimacing at the probably cold pot. “Guess you’ll just have to come back tomorrow and have some.” She suggested and Wirt nodded grimly. 

Tomorrow. It was a promise, in a way. A deal to keep. 

Wirt didn’t know whether he could keep this promise. 

xxx


	4. chapter 4

“Within string theory, the strings that we're talking about are not the only entities that this theory allows. It also allows objects that look like large flying carpets, or membranes, which are two dimensional surfaces. And what that means, within string theory, is that we may be living on one of those gigantic surfaces, and there can be other surfaces floating out there in space."

Wirt suddenly clicked off his cassette tape player, his mind drifting elsewhere. It was late and he had decided that the possibilities of the multiverse found through quantum physics and string theory were no longer of interest to him. He had been sitting at his desk since getting home from Mrs. Daniels’ earlier that evening, studying all the way through dinner and well into the night. He couldn’t help it; what he had heard from his younger brother had just fueled the growing fire of fear inside of him and he couldn’t just lie down and try to sleep after hearing that.

Especially considering the nightmares that would inevitably come.

So, he turned to his books and cassettes that he had picked up from the library that afternoon and tried to piece together the seemingly impossible puzzle before him. He had even tried pawing through the attic in search of old books of folklore that could be hidden in his grandparent’s belongings. Unfortunately, all he could find was a few wartime journals written by his great-grandfather and the same old boxes of junk that had always been up there. 

Instead, he had turned to science and mathematics, hoping to find a logical explanation for what was going on. While the thought of alternate universes, time travel, and psychosis interested him, they weren’t of much help. There were no specific texts that he could read that related exactly to what he had experienced. His notes were numerous, but in the end only one document really mattered for his journey.

He stared down at the sheet of yellow lined paper in front of him, eyes burning from lack of sleep and from the brightness of his desk lamp. The words all seemed to blur together in a jumbled, hurried mess, but he knew what they meant.

“Things We Know.” The list was titled in scribbled handwriting at the top of the sheet.

1\. Time passes differently out there.

This one seemed simple enough. When they had fallen into the river four months ago, they had spent about a week or so in the woods. In reality, they had only spent about a minute and a half in the freezing lake; a normal amount of time before they were poised to run out of breath. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact conversion rate of his reality’s passage of time compared to how time passed in the woods, but if a minute or so was about a week long in the woods, he figured it was a pretty significant difference.

2\. If I go in, there’s no guarantee that I can come back again

This was the only other item on his list so far. After writing this, he had crumped the paper into a ball and tossed it into his waste bin. The thought was so terrifying that he hadn’t really wanted to explore it further, but after a moment he came to his sense and retrieved the paper. It was obvious that whatever was still lurking in the unknown was posing a very real and ominous threat to not only him, but the rest of his reality. Whatever was going on there was after something more tangible, and Wirt had the uneasy feeling that it wouldn’t rest until it got what it wanted. 

The signs were there and they were too prevalent to ignore. If he didn’t step up and take action against whatever was threatening his world, nobody was going to. The rest of his world had no idea what he and Greg had seen over that wall and they had no idea what would happen if it spun out of control. Granted, Wirt didn’t either but if he even had the slightest ability to stop the Beast in its tracks before it attacked everyone he knew and loved, he would take that chance in a heartbeat. He had never been particularly courageous, especially before Halloween night, but he had this newfound, strangely misplaced sense of optimism that told him that he could do this. 

So, if he was the only one who knew how to stop it, then he would have to stop it himself.

Hurriedly, he folded the sheet of paper and tucked it into his pocket. It was getting late and if the silence coming from the rest of his house was any indication, now was the time for his plot.

He hesitated, pulling his old Halloween costume out from underneath the bed where he had stored it four months ago. He brushed off a cobweb before putting on his familiar red hat and fastening the cloak around his neck. The warm fabric felt comforting, oddly enough. He figured that it would bring on a wave of unwarranted memories, but it merely encouraged him further to go through with this, crazy as it may be.

The plan seemed simple enough: sneak out of the house after everyone falls asleep, climb over the brick wall that bordered the woods and the cemetery, find his way back. Three steps that would either end in total disaster...or total disaster. Although Wirt was typically very conscientious and meticulously prepared about everything in life, but this wasn’t something he could really prepare for. He was entering into another world, one that he knew very little about in the grand scheme of things. He didn’t even know how to get there, really. He wanted to believe that his entire journey with his younger brother was just some oxygen-deprived hallucination, but he had reviewed the reasons on how that didn’t make any sense, especially considering recent circumstances. 

Suddenly, he felt a wave of apprehension and nausea crash over him and he took a seat on the edge of his bed. 

‘You got this, Wirt. Just stand up and walk out that door. Just do it. You got this, you got this, you got-‘

“Wirt?”

He jumped at the sudden noise, startled by his younger brother yet again. The silhouette of the small boy was illuminated by the hallway light and Wirt frantically stood up and shut off the light intruding from outside his room. 

“Why are you wearing your Halloween costume? Are we going trick-or-treating?” Greg questioned, his hair and pajamas rumpled from sleep. Wirt shut the door to his bedroom as quietly as he possibly could, really not wanting to wake up his parents and have to go through the whole ordeal of explaining to them his peculiar choice in outfit. 

“Uh, yeah. I am. But, um, it’s a secret so you can’t tell anyone you saw me.” He improvised, trying to find the best way to break the news to his younger brother. “I’m gonna go trick-or-treating and I’ll be back in a few hours, but you have to keep quiet, alright?” Wirt instructed and Greg furrowed his brow, looking confused.

“Okay, I’ll come with you.” He offered simply. 

“No, Greg. You can’t come.” He replied succinctly, trying to dissuade his brother. “This alone, is my burden to bear. So I’ll tread into the eternal darkness. Into fire and into ice.” He waxed poetically, taking a quick glance in the mirror that hung on his doorframe. The thought of leading Greg back into those dark woods terrified him more than the fact that he was heading back there himself. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing his brother there again or seeing him hurt. Wirt had screwed up enough as of late, he didn’t need to screw up Greg as well.

“Oh. Well, do you want to take Jason Funderberker with you?” The younger boy prompted, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “He’ll protect you.” He suggested and Wirt surprised himself by smiling warmly at the offer.

“Sure, Greg. I’ll take Jason with me.” He caved, finally gaining the strength to stand up from the edge of his bed. “I’ll make sure to bring you back some candy.” He promised, following his little brother to his room to collect the sleeping frog. 

He hoped Greg understood if he didn’t end up returning that evening. He really didn’t want to do this to the younger boy, but he also didn’t want to see what would happen to his world if the threats persisted. They had been personally contacted by the Beast, and here he was, walking headfirst into enemy lines to try and conquer the unknown by himself. In a way, he was protecting his younger brother by doing this. If he went in there and stopped the Beast from hurting his world, then Greg got to grow up and live a normal life and go to school and get married and grow old.

So, really, what did it matter if Wirt didn’t? 

xxx

Jason Funderberker croaked loudly as the pair made their way down the familiar route to the old cemetery. 

“Shhh.” Wirt hissed, then realized that it didn’t matter much anyway. He pulled his cloak around the frog a little tighter in an attempt to warm them both up some more. He deeply regretted not wearing warmer clothes for the journey and hoped that when he got where he was supposed to be that it wasn’t going to be quite so frigid.

As they approached the entrance to the cemetery, Wirt ducked in through the iron gates, trying not to let his fear show. Although he had come here many times following the events of Halloween, he had mainly come during the day to deliver his weekly letter to Beatrice. He had never really been here at nighttime, save for four months ago. Even then, he was surrounded by other kids. Now, it was just him.

And Jason Funderberker, he supposed.

Suddenly, he felt as though his heart was beating entirely too quickly and he stopped in his tracks, eliciting another croak from Greg’s impatient frog. 

“Jesus, what am I doing?” He groaned, slapping a palm over his face. “This is asinine!” He cried, startling a few crows that were perched on the iron arches that protected the cemetery. He sat down on the grass, leaning up against a tombstone and letting his head fall between his knees. 

“This doesn’t even make any logical sense. How am I even supposed to get there again?” He questioned aloud, not caring how crazy he must have sounded. Who was going to judge him? A frog? 

Initially, he figured that he would just jump the wall again and be able to navigate his way back to the old grist mill where Beatrice and her family resided, but it clearly took much more than that to really travel into the unknown. Before, he and Greg had only found themselves in this alternate world when they had been knocked unconscious in the lake. It was proven that anyone who just climbed the wall wouldn’t end up there, because how would his friends and the police officer who came to collect him be unaffected?

He knew it was because of what he had read about. Near-death experiences. Whether or not the woods were some kind of quasi-afterlife setting, he figured this was the only way to arrive in the same universe he had been in before. The same universe where the threats were coming from the somehow now revived Beast. The same universe that if he didn’t man up and travel into, that his world might be destroyed and taken control of by some power hungry shadow monster that turned souls into oil.

All of a sudden, he had the strength to stand up again and keep walking towards the wall. 

The great stone fixture somehow seemed more imposing than ever as he approached, weaving through old tombstones. It loomed over him like some sort of unspoken challenge was in place, and he supposed in a way there was. If he was writing a poem about the situation he would probably include that the wall represented some sort of untouchable obstacle in life that he had to cross, using the symbolism of the situation to relate to something more...normal. 

“Well, I guess we better get this over with, huh?” Wirt sighed, ignoring the thudding of his heart in his chest. He stared down at Jason Funderberker. The frog merely croaked.

“Yeah, I get what you mean.” Wirt replied casually as if the frog could understand him. And hey, maybe he could. After all, he did know how to sing a pretty good melody.

He slipped Jason into the brown leather messenger bag that hung at his side that he had the foresight to bring along and approached the trunk of the oak tree that he had scurried up last time in order to cross the wall. Hesitantly, he found his footing in one of the groves of the trunk and pulled himself up using a branch resting above his head. He continued this steady rhythm until the wall no longer seemed so menacing and he was able to peer over the ivy and moss that coated its stone surface.

He gave one final heave and pulled himself up to sit on the top of the stone wall, peering into the darkness of the eternity before him. Whatever lay beyond there was his destiny, whether he liked or not. Wirt shivered, but not entirely from the cold as he dangled his legs hopelessly on the other end of the wall, his back facing his town. His back towards his family, his friends, Sara, and everything he knew to be true. 

‘Just jump.’ He told himself, trying to muster up the courage to do so. ‘You’ve done it before, and it’s really not even that high up.’ He rationalized, drawing in a shaky breath. He steadied himself against the wall and prepared. 

“Okay Funderberker. One the count of three.” He told the frog who remained silent from inside Wirt’s satchel. 

“One.” He hoped his family wouldn’t be too upset over it all, considering the fact that he may not come back. But, he was doing this for them; for everyone really. He couldn’t let the Beast persist and attack his reality.

“Two.” He wished he gotten the chance to apologize to Sara before he left.

“Thre-“

“Wirt!”

He felt his heart plummet to his chest, fingers hastily gripping the stones beneath him as he stopped himself from jumping. No, why was he here? Why had he followed him over here? Why did he have to make everything so much more complicated than it needed to be?

“Wirt! You forgot to bring Jason Funderberker’s asthma medication!” Greg cried, running through the tombstones to reach the wall where Wirt still sat, now turned around to face his younger brother. The younger boy was dressed in his same Halloween costume from four months prior, the silver teapot headpiece bobbing along as he ran to catch his brother. Suddenly, any fear and apprehension he felt towards jumping over the wall was now replaced with anger. This could not be happening.

“Greg! I told you not to follow me!” Wirt shouted, not necessarily caring if anyone in the surrounding areas could hear him. It was nearly 2 in the morning, who cared at this point? He pivoted himself even further on the edge of the wall so that his back faced the woods and he could peer down at Greg. 

“I just wanted to make sure Jason Funderberker had his inhaler!” Greg defended, holding up one of Wirt’s old inhalers from childhood.

Wirt frowned. “He’s fine, Greg. Now go home.” Wirt ordered, not wanting to play this ridiculous game with his brother right now. 

“Okay, Hey, what are you doing trick-or-treating all the way up there anyway?” the younger boy questioned innocently and Wirt bit the inside of his cheek. He did not have the time to deal with this right now.

“It’s none of your business, Greg. Just go home.” Wirt assured, trying his best to keep the venom from his tone. He didn’t want to seem malicious for maybe the last time he would see his younger brother, but he really didn’t need Greg meddling in this right now. 

“Okay, I’ll just bring you Jason Funderberker’s inhaler.” He resolved, placing a foot on the tree that bordered the wall and the cemetery. Wirt groaned, trying to scoot more towards his younger brother to stop him from climbing any trees or getting near the wall. He couldn’t live with the knowledge that he was the one who had dragged Greg into the forest again, to only get more lost this time than the last. 

“Greg, don’t.” Wirt demanded, feeling the wind pick up around them. “Just leave, alright?” He felt his cloak begin to sway in the breeze behind him. “You shouldn’t be here, it’s really not safe for y-“ 

He didn’t get to finish his warning to his younger brother. In the blink of an eye he felt a harsh tug on the back of his cloak and before he knew it he was tumbling back-first over the edge of the stone wall. His head came crashing down first. He figured, in a way, he was lucky enough to that he didn’t have to feel the pain explode through his skull as he landed hard against the dirt and grass that lay below.

The last thing he remembered thinking was that he hoped Greg wouldn’t follow him.

xxx


	5. chapter 5

When he blinked himself out of the inky obsidian of his dream state, the last place Wirt expected to be was in a hospital.

But, he was. If the telltale signs of beeping machinery and the IV stuck in his pale arm weren’t indicative enough of his location, the fact that Sara was waiting by his bedside once again was. 

She didn’t notice at first that he was awake, but after he shifted around trying to ease the pain in his chest and skull, she looked up from the book she was engrossed in and met his gaze. 

“Oh, Wirt.” She exhaled softly, her dark hair falling into her face as she leaned forward to sit by him. He inhaled deeply, her familiar peppermint scent invading his senses until it was all that existed. 

“H-how did I get here?” He questioned, his voice gravelly and hoarse from lack of speech. He noted the overwhelming pain in his ribs and back, moving around slightly to see how much damage had been done when...when...when-

What had happened again? Why couldn’t he seem to remember? 

“Your little brother managed to track down some police officers and get you in here after you fell. You hit your head pretty hard too.” She explained patiently, but not specifically enough. He could picture himself falling, but when had it happened? And where? Did he just incidentally leave one of his shoe laces untied again and trip face-first? He winced in pain as he tried to sit up further in his bed, realizing that doing so took much more effort and strength than he had on hand at the moment. 

“But, uh, where did I? I mean- like, how did I fa-“ He began to try and clarify the exact events that had landed him in a hospital bed once again, but Sara shushed him gently before he could continue.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get the nurse in here.” She insisted and he pulled a frown. Nothing was making any sense about any of this and his vision felt hazy. He must have hit his head harder than he thought.

They sunk into a comfortable silence as Sara pressed a button on his bedside table that was most likely used for paging the nurses. He blinked a few times, ignoring the coppery taste of blood in his mouth. Everything, even the air in the room, just felt stale and bland. 

“I’m sorry- about earlier.” He managed to croak out. Sara merely shot him a confused glance as if she didn’t know what he was talking about. “When I yelled at you.” He clarified, eyeing her skeptically when she showed no outward reaction. Just that afternoon he had seen her sobbing, but she merely sat there, seemingly unaffected.

“You don’t have to be sorry for that, Wirt.” She consoled, moving from her chair to sit on the edge of his hospital bed. “After all, it doesn’t really matter now.” She added, a sad smile plastered on her face. Her eyes, usually bright and exuberant, seemed dull and lifeless now. Wirt stared up at his friend, shaking only slightly.

“And uh- sorry- why doesn’t it matter now?” He questioned, hoping that she would reveal some information to make this whole wacky situation make some sort of sense.

“Because she belongs to me now.”

The voice was unmistakable. It couldn’t have belonged to any other being, but yet Wirt shut his eyes and prayed that it did. His breathing began to rapidly quicken and he clutched onto the starchy hospital sheets, hoping to hang onto some form of reality. Was this even real? 

“Wirt, it’s okay. He’s going to help me.” He heard Sara’s voice whisper and when he hesitantly opened his eyes again, he was faced with abject horror before him. Sara, still sat on the edge of his bed, had the familiar vines and branches of an Edelwood tree wrapping around her, trapping her an eternal state. He tried to pry the twisting twigs away from her fragile body, but his fingers were useless against the tough wood and ivy. He watched, unable to look away, as the branches even came out of her mouth and leaves covered her eyes. She tried to speak, but was muffled by her arboreal cage. 

Wirt pulled himself from the hospital bed, whipping around to try and find the image of the Beast, but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary in the room. 

“Let go of her! She doesn’t deserve this!” He cried, eyes darting around the room. Sara continued to transform into a tree in the middle of everything, but he knew that the only way to stop her inevitable doom was by stopping the Beast first.

“Oh, but she’s not in any pain.” The Beast hissed, his tremulous baritone echoing off the walls. “And besides, she’s not the first from your world. She’s merely joining her brothers and sisters now.” He chuckled and Wirt felt his heart skip a beat. So, it was true. The Beast really had been venturing into his reality to capture the souls that he no longer could find lost in the forest. He felt as though he was going to be sick.

“You can’t do this!” Wirt shouted, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“Soon, you will see my purpose fulfilled. Alone, I am only so effective. However, with an army, I can achieve so much more than you’ll ever comprehend.” He promised and Wirt trembled with anger. His plan was to create an army of Edelwood by snatching the souls of kids from another reality, but for what exactly? 

“You’ll see in good time.” The Beast explained, lingering inside of Wirt’s thoughts. “Now, I suggest you wake up before you find yourself in a similar situation.” He advised and suddenly, the room began to spin even more than it previously had been. 

Wake up? So that meant-

It really did happen. He wasn’t in the hospital, but instead lying unconscious in the grass by the wall where he had fell. His memories came rushing back to him like a train hitting him head on.

“Precisely.” The Beast finished for him.

And with a snap of his long, gnarled, black fingers, Wirt was gone.

xxx

“Augh!” 

He came to a moment later, bolting upright into a sitting position. His breathing was frantic and rushed, almost as if he had been running the mile in gym class and couldn’t keep up. He sucked in a breath, smelling the familiar dampness of the grass after a rainstorm and the chilled night air. He could hear crickets and the hooting of owls in the distance and felt the dirt underneath his fingers. 

Sara. The Beast. The wall. 

It was all real, but the hospital wasn’t. His dreams seemed so vivid and realistic that they had begun to blur with his reality. He could never be too sure if he was truly awake or not, but his vision didn’t seem too hazy anymore, so he took this to be true. 

“Wirt! You’re awake!” He heard a voice cry from behind him and he whipped around, fearing what he already knew had happened. Greg had innocently followed him once more, and unbeknownst to him, he had been lead straight back into another dangerous situation. “Jason Funderberker and I were just working on a song for when you woke up. Do you wanna hear it?” He chirped and Wirt picked up his red cone hat from where it had fallen on the dusty ground before placing it back on his head. He furrowed his brow.

“No, and you shouldn’t be here.” He reprimanded. His younger brother seemed unaffected by this statement.

“Okay, we’ll sing it anyway.” He replied, shrugging off Wirt’s previous comment. He began to sustain a note on an ‘Oh’ vowel, but Wirt quickly cut him off.

“Greg! I don’t want to hear it. Now just, just- find your own way back home, okay? It’s not safe for you out here and I have important things to do.” He snapped harshly, raising his voice slightly in the process. He felt bad as Greg shrunk back, but the younger boy needed to understand that he couldn’t just go around blindly following Wirt all the time; especially when Wirt had put himself in a situation as thoughtless and risky as this one. “I-I’m sorry,” he muttered, but didn’t know if he believed it. “You need to get back home with Jason. It’s not safe.” He explained, his tone quiet and hopefully a little patient. He felt a twist in his gut when he realized it probably wasn’t much safer for Greg at home either, especially with the threat of the Beast lurking in their reality. 

This truly was a waking nightmare.

“Sounds good, Wirt. I’ll just get on this mysterious train and see if it’ll take us home. And then I’ll come back for you tomorrow so you can come home too!” The boy reasoned as Wirt began an unsteady trek down the hill, his back to his younger brother. He knew he was still responsible for Greg and that he shouldn’t be leaving him, but he couldn’t waste time in walking his brother all the way back home. 

“That’s great, Greg.” He called over his shoulder, the boy’s words not really sinking in until a moment later. Mysterious train? What was he talking about? He suddenly turned around and nearly fell down the grassy knoll in shock. Just a second ago, the abandoned train tracks had been completely void of any vehicles, but now a giant black steam locomotive stood atop them. He peered into the darkness, trying to see when the trail of boxcars ended, but he saw no caboose in near distance. He noticed Greg and Jason sitting in one of the window seats, waving brightly at him. He marveled at the design of the ivory train, but then quickly realized the ramifications of letting Greg go on there. Alone. In the middle of nowhere.

Great. Just, great.

The deafening train whistle drowned out his thoughts as he ran right back up the hill and to the open box car where Greg and Jason had surely climbed on through. 

“Greg! Get off of there!” He called into the train, a warm candlelight glow emanating from the open car. He groaned inwardly as he realized that he would have to go in there after his younger brother and placed a foot up on the platform. However, he was stopped before he could advance any further by a hand that tapped him on the shoulder from behind.

“Now, hold on there son, you need a ticket to ride this train!” A cheery voice with a southern twang instructed and Wirt turned around to only be met face-to-face with the skeletal remains of somebody who probably lived way too long ago. The sentient skeletal remains who bore a train conductor’s hat and a stopwatch, but skeletal remains nonetheless. Wirt took a step back, pulling away from the bony hand that had reached out to touch him.

At first, he was only slightly shocked. After all, last time they had ventured out into the woods they had met talking horses, anthropomorphic animal students, and singing frogs. So really, he was only taken off his guard for a second or so.

“So, you’re d-“ he began tentatively

“The conductor of this here train, that’s right young man!” The skeleton conductor finished for him, probably unaware he was going to comment on the man’s unfortunate state. “And to ride this train, you need one ticket. Otherwise, I can’t let you on. Bad for business.” He clarified and Wirt nodded numbly. So, they had made it back into the area of the woods that had been seemingly unreachable before. Where else would a person find re-animated skeletons who conducted massive black trains that appeared out of nowhere? He knew this was a good sign, in a way. If he was back in the dimension or reality or...whatever...he needed to be in then that was just his first step to defeating the Beast and taking Sara back from her unfortunate arboreal state.

“Okay, where do I buy a ticket?” He questioned, trying to peer around the conductor skeleton to see if Greg was still on the train or if he had gone and done something else impulsive and thoughtless. 

“Well, some folks say that you’ll find entry to anywhere just by making yourself known. Some say you just have to wander the perimeter of life ‘til you find it. Some say that when the moon wanes for the fourth time and the river is deep enough that you can ask it to tell you.” The remains of the southern man rambled, tipping his hat over his exposed skull and leaning up against the doorway of the boxcar. Wirt sighed impatiently, not caring much for the ramblings of some long-dead confederate poet. He must have picked up on Wirt’s exasperation. “I say- you buy a ticket right here.” He pulled off his hat and held it out to Wirt, seemingly to drop the payment required in.

“I- how much does it cost?” Wirt asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

“You sure do know what you’re going on about, boy. I’ve never had so many questions in one night!” The skeleton exclaimed and Wirt felt himself deflate. “Now, some say that when you cross over the familia-“ he began to start his weird poetic ramblings again, but Wirt interrupted this time.

“Yeah okay, I’m gonna pay you this one button, alright?” He cut in, not ready to deal with standing there and listening to the man talk about nothingness. He picked off a brass button from his cloak and dropped it in the hat of the expectant skeleton before hopping aboard and heading straight to the car where he had seen Greg just minutes prior.

He exhaled with pure relief when he saw that his younger brother was still there. The boy sat on one of the cushioned train seats, Jason Funderberker beside him.

“Oh hi, Wirt!” Greg greeted when he saw his brother walk into the boxcar. Wirt, frenzied, took a seat across from his brother and the frog. “Did you meet Ol’ Stanley yet?” The boy asked cryptically, but Wirt nodded, figuring that ‘Ol’ Stanley’ was just the name of the skeleton that greeted him at the opening of the train.

Wirt glanced around the well-lit boxcar, taking in it’s old-fashioned feel. He felt the wheels begin to turn beneath them and the loud train whistle sounded again, alerting them of their updated status. However, Wirt didn’t feel too secure.

“Greg, I don’t trust this. Do you think we should go?” He questioned aloud, his nerves peeking through what little confidence he had left. “No, we probably shouldn’t, unless we want to walk all that way. But, maybe we should?” He muttered, mainly to himself. “No- no, we shouldn’t go. You’re right.” He conceded, easing back into the seat. Greg stared blankly at him.

“Yessir, Captain Wirt.” Greg exclaimed, saluting as he did so. Wirt let himself smile slightly at the silly interaction.

Suddenly, Ol’ Stanley appeared at the front of the boxcar as the train gradually began to pick up speed. At first, Wirt questioned how he could be operating the train and standing there in front of them at the same time, but pushed his apprehension to the back of his mind. He had seen firsthand where asking questions with a skeleton got you.

“Welcome to today’s unauthorized locomotive tour!” Ol’ Stanley began, speaking as if the boxcar was full of eagerly awaiting passengers instead of just Wirt, Greg, and their frog. “This tour is designed to take you to the place you most desire, he whereabouts of which hidden deep in your subconsciouses.” He explained and Wirt frowned skeptically. Greg, on the other hand, cheered with unadulterated excitement. 

“I can’t believe we’re gonna go to the inside of a whale’s mouth!” The young boy cried, revealing his odd dream destination.

“First stop,” Ol’ Stanley began, adjusting his conductor’s hat. “The old grist mill!” 

Wirt had a bad feeling about all of this.

xxx


End file.
